Japanese Flag

Bein’ a lady is tough. Being a lady who recently pushed a watermelon out of her vagina is worse. There are so many things that people never tell you—probably because it’s nasty and no one wants to admit that their downstairs has been flooded, hit by a tornado and may or may not have  a family of squirrels living in it.

See, bad things happen to your passion purse during birth. But bad things continue to happen after. Even though vaginas, to quote Betty White, can really “take a beating”, they also need some time to recover.  To give them credit they’ve basically been punched from the inside out, repeatedly, and then sent on their merry way. I came home from the hospital with a plastic water bottle for “cleaning”, a ginormous pair of mesh granny panties and the sympathetic wishes of a full staff of nurses.

And the bleeding after birth. No one warns you that your insides pour out of you like a Slurpee machine filled with bloody mary mix, stuck in the “on” position.

I was recently chatting with a friend who mentioned that she had gotten her first post-pregnancy period. It’s like a flashback to puberty when you get hit with a curse out of the blue and you’re madly scrambling to find something to absorb the waterfall of what your mother refers to as “womanhood” pouring out of you.

“I just bled through a tampon/pad/underwear/shorts/couch cushion cover to the couch in less than 2 hours.” My friend lamented.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. That shit is much funnier when it isn’t happening to you. And a quote came to mind. (I’m thinking it was Einstein but it could have Bill Clinton.)

“Fall asleep on white sheets…wake up on a Japanese flag.”

Profound, ain’t it?